


Probably Ghouls All Over The Place

by CasGetYourShotgun



Category: A Shoggoth on the Roof, Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Dream Cycle - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: (they do not get eaten by the ghoul at this time), Affectionate Parody, Alternate Universe, Bittersweet, CGYS Rarepair Hell, Established Relationship, Fluff, Ghouls, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, M/M, Missing Scene, Pastiche, especially given that pickman is not actually in said musical, you can probably read this with no knowledge of the musical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:29:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasGetYourShotgun/pseuds/CasGetYourShotgun
Summary: Dating in Arkham is weird and confusing at the best of times, and Randolph Carter's own romantic life is the most inconvenient of the lot. Somehow, he makes it work.(A missing scene of sorts from the parody musicalA Shoggoth on the Roof, because Carter's subplot deserved more time.)
Relationships: Randolph Carter/Richard Upton Pickman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	Probably Ghouls All Over The Place

**Author's Note:**

> At long last, I've finished this story! (I've been working on it since March.)
> 
> Yes, I know it doesn't line up with musical-canon enough to be a true missing scene. My solution to this is to call this a scene from an alternate version of Shoggoth in which the creators expanded on Carter's storyline instead of the Jill/Marsh stuff. It's also very strongly influenced by the 2003 Guerilla Productions version of Dream-Quest. The title is adapted from one of Carter's lines in the musical.
> 
> Many thanks to Argus for looking this over and informing me that this is, in fact, actually good.
> 
> (There's an allusion to necrophilia in the third paragraph, but no named character is implicated, and the first paragraph contains intentionally parodic victim-blaming that is not attached to anything serious or distressing.)

So maybe shoving Warren into a suspicious-looking tomb with Possibly The Elder Sign engraved on it was a little harsh, and would most likely result in an argument when he finally found his way out again, but really, if he didn't want to be shoved into a tomb he probably shouldn't have spent so much time dithering on the threshold like he had been. Honestly, Carter had been doing him a favour.

It's not as if it was a  _ premeditated _ tomb-shoving, anyway. On any other night in any other graveyard he would have waited patiently and let Warren descend into the depths as slowly as he liked, but then he'd seen something familiar out of the corner of his eye and suddenly he was so desperate for Warren to get on with it that he'd panicked and pushed him in.

And then he was alone on the surface, probably, because there aren’t many people inclined to loiter in Arkham’s graveyards at night. Other than those two creeps who seem overly interested in the corpses. And Herbert West, plus whatever unsuspecting student he’s roped into helping him this week. The occasional lost cultist. And - well, alright, there are far too many people inclined to loiter in Arkham’s graveyards at night, but the point is that they’re all the kind of dangerous maniacs and shovel-wielding zealots who really have no business judging Carter for spending quality time with a kindred spirit.

And with that thought, he settled in to wait.

It didn't take long before he felt someone settle down beside him. 

"Didn't expect to see you here," said the ghoul perched next to him.

"Warren thought there was something worth investigating here; needed someone to carry his stuff. I think I'm supposed to be looking out for him."

"So that's why you shoved him into a crypt, then."

"He had it coming. And I'm not here for his investigations."

"You're not?"

"I...I'd hoped I might run into you in the waking world."

They'd met entirely by chance in the Dreamlands, and whilst two years had passed since then (for Carter, anyway), they'd never actually seen each other on this plane. It made sense that they hadn't - left to his own devices, waking-Carter generally preferred to avoid the sorts of tunnels and graveyards and abandoned buildings that ghouls pass their time in, and then there were the other problems that made this sort of meeting ill-advised.

If they had met when Pickman had still been human (he had been, once, and even lived in Carter's home city of Boston), it might have been different. Certainly it would have been complicated, and they could never appear to be anything more than friends to the outside world, but they might have kept company all the same, perhaps lived together if circumstances permitted. 

But somehow they just kept missing each other, never crossing paths, until finally Carter moved back to Arkham and Pickman disappeared from human society altogether.

It was not an ideal situation.

These moments, however - the nights where they would find each other and talk about everything and nothing with someone who  _ understood _ them the way few others ever had - were moments that Carter wouldn’t trade for anything, couldn’t conceive of losing.

"I'm glad you did." English was difficult for Pickman, his vocal cords having long since adapted to something entirely different that Carter still could not quite produce himself and didn't understand well enough to hold down a conversation. "I missed you."

Carter smiled softly and leaned further against his companion, twining their mismatched hands together as Pickman nuzzled his hair. (Human-style kisses were almost impossible given ghoulish facial structure, but Carter had always found this to be a perfectly adequate substitution.)

"Brought down a gug last week. We won't have to scrap for food til next year so long as no-one steals it."

"That's excellent!"

"It'll be good for the newer recruits. Ease them in gradually, get them used to the harder parts of life before they really have to think about any of it."

"I wish I had news like that. My novel's been rejected by everyone I've tried sending it to."

" _ Azathoth _ ?"

"Shhhhhh, you can't say it out loud! But yes, that one."

"Maybe the problem's that you gave it an unspeakable title."

"Apparently it's too weird for real publishers and too artsy for the pulps." Carter gave an irritated sigh. "I'm just tired."

"Tired of what?"

"Society. Expectations. Being  _ respectable _ ."

"You could come with me."

"I-"

Pickman shifted so that they were facing each other, and took Carter's hands in his. "Come with me," he repeated. "You're not happy here; you haven't been for a long time. Come with me to the Crag of the Ghouls above the Vale of Pnath, and leave it behind!"

"You know I'd make a terrible ghoul, Richard."

"You'd make an  _ exquisite  _ ghoul."

"Thank you," Carter said, flushing slightly at what he was fairly certain was intended as a compliment, "but I wouldn't be any  _ good _ at it. It's not what I was meant for, just like you weren't meant to be human. I want us to be together, but not like this. I'm sorry, but I'd be miserable."

"I don't think I could be happy knowing I'd caused that."

"And someone needs to feed the cat."

"Of course."

"And it would be difficult for me to leave Arkham, with its moss-grown gambrel roofs and the rocky rolling meadows behind them-" He was cut off before he could get started on what was certain to be a fascinating monologue.

"I understand."

"But you're right. I'm not happy here, either. It's my home, and I'll always love it dearly, but I've seen all there is to see here, done all there is to be done. It will hurt to leave, but I can't stay. I'll go mad if I stay." He squeezed his partner's clawed hands tighter. "Take me with you, back to the Dreamlands. Help me make that crossing. I'll find somewhere to start over, and I'll see you whenever I can. It won't be perfect, but-"

"It will be better than this."

"It will be enough. We'll  _ make _ it enough."

Pickman stood. "Shall we go then?"

"What, now?"

"Why not now?"

"Well, for one thing I'm still supposed to be looking out for Warren right now."

"Right."

"And I need time to put all my affairs in order, and find someone to take the cat. Probably Warren, he already owes me big for this."

Pickman nodded, and released his hands. "How long d'you think you'll need?"

"A week? Meet me here in a week, and we'll go."

"I'll be here."

"I can't wait."

"I should probably let you get back to-" Pickman paused and jerked his head towards the apparatus lying ignored by the slab, "this."

"Probably. Warren's kind of a jerk but I'd hate for something to happen to him because I didn't pay attention."

"See you in a week then?"

"Just one more week. I love you."

"Love you too."

Carter spent a few minutes after Pickman left smiling stupidly to himself before something finally caught his attention. At first he thought the sound was coming from the telephone apparatus, and checked it, but there was only silence coming from the other end. Warren had not called.

He finally looked up from the equipment to see another ghoul standing over him. 

It did not look familiar.

It looked hungry. 

Carter swore.


End file.
